Awake
by Ai Neko Yokai
Summary: Who knew it'd be perfect to align with an enemy to defeat a greater enemy? Two faces, which one will win? Will the dark really encompass Harry to the point of no return? Character bashing seemingly DARK HARRY TRHP HPTR LVHP HPLV HPDM DMHP slash yaoi HPDM is main pairing; HPLV subpairing, partial don't like? don't read!


_AN: This story was originally started by SolemnxAngel. Please go to my profile to learn more about this story. And yes, if you've read this story the multiple of times it had been posted on SolemnxAngel's account, this first chapter will look nearly identical. (But there will be changes made as early as this chapter and drastic changes made throughout the rest of this story. I have been given plenty to work with and was ever charmed that I was bestowed with this story.) _

_Originally written: May 9, 2008  
Original Rewrite (SolemnxAngel): February 11, 2009_

_Started (in my care): August 31, 2012_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not make profit from this fanfiction. I do own, however, this plot. While I do not own the characters, I do own up to twisting their lives even further for my own sick and twisted amusement. You all are just as horrible for enjoying this, too.**_

~1~  
Awake  
~0~  
Chapter One – Eyes, Lies, and Alibis  
~1~

Looking at the clock, green eyes blurredly registered that it was only one-fifteen in the morning. Groaning softly to himself, he turned his head to the other wall, where the window was. The moon gently stroked his face, glistening tears that had been shed earlier. It hurt to think. Not just because of the pain in his heart, but in his soul; the fire of his anger was too strong and bright.

Sirius, his Padfoot, died at the end of Harry's fifth year. That was only just about a month ago, give or take a week or two. The Ministry of Magic had no excuses, and with a fluttering sense of vindication whirling in his stomach, the public was outraged to find out the monstrosities that had been committed. Sirius Black hadn't received a fair trial. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had, indeed, returned. Fudge was immediately booted out of his office. The Ministry, as a whole, posthumously cleared Sirius Black and then—of course, blaming everything on Fudge—issued a 'sincere' apology to both Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter.

_It's too late though... _Another wave of agony and hatred swept over him. Tides, they were not only changing in the water and in society, no, Harry could feel tides change within himself. He couldn't quite place if it were a good thing, or if it were bad. Part of him was wrapped in the current, slowly drowning in regret and guilt. But then, Harry wryly chuckled, there was the tide that was letting him ride it out. The anger wanting nothing more than retribution.

Letting out some hot air slowly, Harry bit his lip. It was two days after his birthday. He hadn't heard from Ron and Hermione in about a month as well. At least with them, it had been a week after they'd all returned home. Ron had sent a rather apologetic letter, before verbally bashing the Ministry. Harry had found a bit of humor in there. Hermione had sent him a book that covered the art of spell-making. Out of all the things that Hermione could have done, that one seemed pretty reckless. _Knowing her, she must've read the whole book already. Knowing her, she must have remembered that the very first page in this book strictly warns the reader that practicing unknown spells is highly dangerous, 'thusly ill advised'._

Harry snorted. He had to admit though, the book was a great distraction for the multitude of raw emotion that was eating him. But what truly concerned him was that his birthday passed two days ago and he hadn't heard a thing from _anyone_. Part of him was hoping that Dobby was intercepting his post again, but he knew that was highly unlikely.

Quietly, Harry, after putting on his glasses, found his way to some paper and a pen and wrote out a letter to Dumbledore. He left it unfinished and folded it neatly before tucking it under his pillow. He'd finish it in the morning.

Anger, though, rode over him again. It was two days after his birthday. Normally, by this time, he'd not have just heard from his friends, but he'd be over at the Burrow by now. In all seriousness, Harry still could not understand why he had to be at the Dursleys. They did nothing but treat him like some lowly house-elf. Growling softly to himself, he snatched the letter under his pillow and scribbled out angry words.

_Like, how dare he? I find it funny how I'm told I won't suffer alone after Cedric died. And I love it how I was made all these promises after Sirius died and I'm still here at the Dursleys. I'm sorry, but I can't go on like this. _Harry didn't realize that a few tears escaped his eyes. _Either I'm just that pissed off, or I'm more upset about everything than I originally thought. _

Harry opened Hedwig's cage, and tied the angry missive to her foot before letting her out. There was no one outside, and that was a stipulation for Harry to be allowed to let Hedwig out. It had to be night, and Harry couldn't let any of the neighbors see 'not a snowy white feather'.

Taking off his glasses and letting his head rest against his pillow, Harry finally was able to sleep.

~0~

Two weeks went by; Hedwig never returned. Harry never received a response from Dumbledore, and that angered him. Vernon and Dudley had upped the ante with their abuse. They realized that no one was going to reprimand them like they had been threatened and, to Harry, it felt like they were making up for the month that they missed hurting him. Dudley loved shoving Harry into walls, tripping Harry in the kitchen with hot cooking-ware, and Vernon had taken a liking to slapping Harry for the teeniest of 'mistakes'. Petunia didn't partake, but it wasn't like she was doing anything to stop them. She'd just sneer his way as if he were asking for it to begin with.

Harry groaned as another wave hit him. Nausea overwhelmed his being. Lack of sleep, lack of food, and lack of pretty much everything, was making him sick and it was torture making breakfast for his aunt, uncle, and piggy cousin. "You, shut up! I'm starving over here! Maybe if you stopped making those disgusting grunting noises, you'd be able to cook quicker and give me my damn food!" Vernon shouted. He took a silver fork and threw it at Harry's head and gave a triumphant snort when it bounced off of brunet curls. He never saw Harry's pained face turn to anger.

The rage... the rage soared through him and was blistering hot. It boiled his blood like fire does water. The eggs he was making weren't cooked all the way, but he didn't care. He put it on his uncle's plate and let the plate clatter in front of Vernon. "Since you're starving, eat." Harry did the same to the other two, not caring that they were protesting. He grabbed the only cooked food, the bacon, and went off upstairs; slowly chewing as if the longer he savored would mean the less hungry he'd be.

When he was at his room, hot tears trailed down his face. The anger slowing being ebbed away with each forceful tear of the bacon strips. _Why can't they just learn to shut the fuck up? I can't take this bullshit right now. Maybe if I wrote a letter to Sir..._ Harry let out a silent sob. _Sirius..._ The ache in his chest was salt to a sorely infected wound. It didn't matter that he didn't have Hedwig; the fact that the one person who would have been on his side through thick and thin, was dead.

They tried to coax him out to do chores, he told them to 'shove off'. Of course, it was ill received, but he had his door locked and they couldn't do _shit_ about it. Harry knew, though, that when he finally were to leave his room, he'd be in for it. _At least, sadly, when my uncle makes a 'promise', he keeps it... Unlike some people._

~0~

The day before had been precious. Harry had been able to relax all he wanted. The bacon, turns out, had been enough to satisfy his nearly depleted stomach; it didn't bother him that he didn't eat lunch or dinner. He was in a near fit of laughter last night when Petunia attempted to cook. She hadn't truly cooked in about a decade, so hearing things 'clink and clank' was rather funny. Vernon, Harry supposed, didn't want his wife stressing over something so trivial, and had suggested that the three of them go out for dinner that night. _Although, one has to wonder how they're eating when I'm away at Hogwarts...?_

Alas, it was the dreaded next day. Harry woke up early, by himself, and opened the door. There were a couple of dents in the door from where his uncle had pounded it as well as a 'to-do' list. He hopped to it, deciding that it would be best to start outside. It wasn't as hot.

He tended to the gardens first, waiting for everyone else in the neighborhood to wake up before mowing the lawn. As he finished pulling out weeds from the garden, Petunia came outside and _requested_ for Harry to make breakfast. Knowing better enough, Harry immediately stopped what he was doing and briskly walked inside to wash his hands before tending breakfast.

Purposefully, Harry made enough breakfast for everyone to eat; including himself. Vernon didn't say anything, but Dudley – having not gotten the hint – decided that he'd take it upon himself to harass Harry. After serving his selfish family, Harry was in the process of filling his plate when Dudley came up and forced Harry's hand on the still-very-hot stove.

"That's what you get, freak. Pull a stunt like yesterday and I'll be more than happy to griddle your face." Dudley smirked, somehow satisfied with himself before sitting back at the table. Harry quickly put his plate down and ran his burned hand under cold water.

Glaring furiously at Dudley, "More like, if you pull a stunt like that again and I'll act like the man who killed my parents."

Dudley's face paled, his eyes looked fearfully in Harry's green eyes. Dudley didn't know why, but at that moment, something about Harry scared him. It was the first time he'd been afraid of _Harry_. It was one thing when someone makes a tail suddenly appear on his behind, but it was another when the freak looked at him with genuine murder in his eyes.

"The Ministry may lock me up, but considering I'm their only hope in killing that bad man – who, yes, is back – I'm more than positive they'll make an exception. Especially since you've done nothing but _abuse_ me. Sure, I can do things your _normal_ way and get the police involved... but torturing you and killing you by the same means of which you fear... that thought is seriously entertaining right now." Harry could feel a tingly buzz travel down his arm and into his hand. It was the first time, since he could recall, that his magic healed him like that. Harry smirked something a Malfoy would've been proud of, waved his newly healed hand, and then picked up his plate to go to his room.

Harry left his room once Vernon and Dudley left; Vernon to his job and Dudley to hang with his friends in town. He descended the stairs, saw Petunia vacuuming the living room, gave her a stiff nod before going to the kitchen. He put his plate in the sink, looked outside and noticed that the sun was still hiding behind the clouds. _Best to mow the lawn now, worst comes to worst, it's going to rain._

~0~

The day passed faster than Harry expected, he thought, while he cooked dinner. Vernon would be home within the next five minutes. They had a guest over, a new friend Dudley had made during the day while Dudders was out.

Harry chuckled quietly. This new friend, Brian, seemed too good to be Dudley's friend. He was polite and well mannered. He even thanked Harry for handing him the water he had asked for. Petunia fawned over Brian. She commented on his very nice short, light-brown hair and then commented on his '_beautiful, baby blue'_ eyes.

Harry shuddered as he watched the potatoes boil. _Those eyes...!_ They reminded him of the supposedly all-knowing Dumbledore. They even had that twinkle in them. _That's probably the only thing bad I have to say about this Brian fellow... Well, that, and the fact that he chose Dudley as a friend._

Vernon came home, gladly introduced himself to Brian. _At least he looks just as surprised as I am when it comes down to friend choices._

Dinner was a nice and quiet affair... until Vernon started talking. Harry served everyone their plates, Brian once again thanked him and gave Harry a soft smile. Harry served his own plate last before sitting down. For show, Vernon started with grace before plunging into his food.

"Brian," Vernon started speaking after swallowing some mashed potatoes, "are you new to town?"

"Oh yes, Mister Dursley! I am quite new," Brian spoke. Harry's gut felt something was off. Brian was throwing Harry's gut off. Just the way that he spoke... "I just moved here, but I don't believe I'm going to be staying for too long."

"What a shame," Petunia smiled, cautiously. _Is she getting some bad vibes about Brian now, too?_

"No, not really. I like it here, don't get me wrong, but I have plans for bigger and better things. I would love to do a lot for the greater good of people, even though, sometimes I know it will be hard."

The way Brian looked over at Harry, made him feel a bit ill. The smile he sent, the too in-depth twinkle in his blue eyes... It made Harry feel like this Brian knew something—knew _him_.

Harry coughed slightly, "So, Brian... What's your full name? You look like someone I know."

Brian didn't seem to mind the question. Instead, his gaze pierced Harry's, "My name is Brian Wulfric. I'm often told, Harry, that I have a lot of common features. Surely, you're mistaken. I'm not from around here... Rather, I'm not from this area. I used to live all the way in Aberystwyth."

"I see," Harry gave a smile of his own. _How he looks and how he talks... He could pass for a much younger Dumbledore._

Harry sat there, quietly for the rest of dinner. He often looked over at Brian, and finally realized why Brian seemed extra weird to him. _I sense magic... it's not mine._

Dinner ended, Harry looked over at his aunt, "Aunt Petunia, would you mind helping me clear the table?"

She seemed grateful to get away, and picked up plates along with Harry. When they were in the kitchen and stowed the plates away in the dishwasher, Harry gently held her arm and whispered, "He has magic, and I don't like the looks of this. Please go up to my room and go under my pillow, bring me my wand."

Her brown eyes looked alarmed, but she smoothed out her dress and steadied her features before calmly walking up the stairs. Harry walked back into the dining room, "Uncle Vernon, do you think you can check the lawn mower? I was able to cut the grass, but stupid me, I don't know if there is any gas left in it. If there isn't, I'll go to the station tomorrow and bring back some, yeah?"

Vernon grumbled and moaned a bit, but he got up anyway. "Good for nothing; dumb kid..." Vernon mumbled as he walked out the back door.

Petunia entered the kitchen, "Harry, I had wanted you to put those in the dishwasher as well!"

She had his wand, and discreetly handed it to him when he walked in, "Dudley, can you help me reach my good china? I have this delicious cake that I'm sure you and your friend would like!"

Dudley, of course, laughed merrily and waltzed out of the dining room. Harry swiftly walked in, sat down next to Brian, and shoved his wand into the unknown wizard's side, "Who the hell are you really, why are you here, and what do you want?"

Brian let out a laugh and looked Harry dead in the eyes, "Harry, Harry, Harry, my dear boy... Was waiting for you to catch on!" He waved his hand, forcing the wand to leave Harry's, before taking a switchblade that Harry didn't know Brian had, and stabbed Harry in the stomach. Brian ran up the stairs and a faint crack was heard.

The Dursleys slowly walked into the dining room, and Petunia screamed. Blood was gushing out of Harry and for the first time, she was scared _for_ him. She quickly ran into the kitchen and grabbed some cloths and helped Harry put pressure on the deep stab wound.

"What do I do, Harry?" Petunia shook her head, rapidly; her mind was racing. She didn't love her nephew. But she did have the decency to care if he died or not.

"I really don't know. I'd send Hedwig, but she didn't come back after I sent a letter..." Harry coughed a little bit, "I need you three to leave the house momentarily... I-I can't do magic in front of you..."

Petunia saw Harry's wand was on the floor, picked it up and shoved it in Harry's right hand. She then forced his left onto his wound and pressed down, "We'll be outside."

They left, and Harry forced himself to remember what he had been reading and learning in school. He knew some basic healing. While he knew it wasn't going to be good enough to completely fix him, he knew it'd be enough to hold him over until he could contact _someone_.

Harry tapped his stomach, praying that no major organs had been seriously injured. Thinking back to when Madam Pomfrey had healed him after the first task his fourth year, Harry really wished he knew what spell she used. Softly, he sighed, thinking fast. He was starting to get a little too lightheaded for comfort. Quickly, he cast 'tergeo' on his wound, before thinking back to his Latin-based text Hermione had sent him. He roughly bit his lip. He knew he didn't really have anything to lose. He couldn't take muggle medicine, so a hospital would be useless; he didn't have his owl, so he couldn't call for help.

He coughed. A small bit of blood came out, and Harry started to panic. _Maybe I'm more injured than I thought? Is this normal for all stabbings? Am I going to die...?_

Harry stuck his wand in his wound, hoping his magic will heal him like it did with his hand. The intent was there, and he could feel a tingle happening. The blood stopped flowing and Harry sighed in relief. The wound, however, was still open. Harry hadn't the faintest clue as how he were to fix that.

Wiping his face in mild annoyance, Harry cast another 'tergeo' for all the blood that had come out before he stopped the bleeding. Still thinking quickly, Harry thought of the Latin he read and just said whatever came to mind first. "_Renovo tergum totus!_" While he said this, he traced the stab wound with his wand, and to his satisfied surprise, his skin healed. _But it did scar... Great..._

There was quite a bit of blood on his clothes, hands, and floor. Making repeat 'tergeo's, the blood quickly vanished from all. But to be safe, Harry cast a 'scourgify' on his hands and on the floor.

~0~

Harry left the dining area and went up to his room after letting his 'family' know it was okay to come inside. He softly closed the door, before letting out a quiet, hysterical cry. Someone bad had found out where he was living. Someone bad had gotten into the home, and someone bad had hurt him pretty badly. Someone bad found him and he hadn't a someone to notify.

Looking at the clock, it was around 'bed-time', around ten-pm. _Considering I ran up here about an hour and a half ago... What a cry baby..._

As if on cue, an angel with dark brown wings, flew up to the window and tapped incessantly until Harry opened it. Fixing his glasses so he could wipe away stray tears, he realized that he'd been stupid to mix an owl with an angel.

~1~  
~48 hours earlier~  
~1~

Daylight gently poured into the musky room. Grey eyes stared at the beige parchment as if what he needed to write down would do it itself. He had heard about what happened in the Department of Mysteries; Sirius Black fell into the veil. He didn't understand why it mattered so much, but then again he did know.

Falling into the veil, to most people who knew of its existence, meant never coming back. Even fewer people knew how exactly the veil works, but the Dark Lord did. He had gloated at the silent victory that night; how he'd won the Ministry battle. The Dark Lord, carelessly, proclaimed to his inner circle how the veil works; a folly that Grey Eyes was sure to make him pay for.

He sat there, at his desk in his family library, trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. He couldn't just put all of his cards out. At the same time, he knew that Harry Potter wouldn't be up for playing games, not that he was trying to. Forbid his owl be intercepted... He shuddered at the thought. Then there was the matter that he hadn't the faintest clue as to where Potter was living. He had the vague idea that Potter was living with some muggle relatives, but the country is vast and filled with muggles.

He let out an aggravated sigh. _He lives with muggles. I have a lot of research to do before I even write this letter._ With another huff, he sat up and searched for his genealogy books.

Scanning dutifully in old and ratty books, he knew it was going to be hard to find a location to the name, Harry James Potter. He knew though, that he'd eventually find what he was looking for. Then the thought came back to him that he hadn't a clue _still_ as how to word his letter. Shaking his head, he pulled himself back to focus.

~0~

Surely enough, a couple hours later, he found the Potter family tree. To his dismay, however, Grey Eyes wanted to slam his head against a wall. The Potters are pureblood. Lily Potter was a muggleborn. _Hours were just wasted because I overlooked that fact; never mind the fact that I knew Potter was living with muggle relatives._

Out of curiosity, Grey Eyes scanned the Potter family tree. He gasped as he saw a very familiar name next to that of James Potter and Lily Potter (Evans). He slowly sat up, a process in his now aching head trying to reason why Severus Snape's name would be anywhere on the Potter tree.

_Not just that, but it was written in red. Never, ever, have I seen that done. What does that even mean?_

Deciding that while it may be odd, he should just ignore it for now. He carefully pocketed that information into the depths of his mind before going back to his current task. He sat back down, at his desk, before pondering Potter's mother.

_Lily Evans was her maiden name. I should look up, by muggle means, the Evans family. But, if I remember overhearing correctly, I believe that Weasel said something about Potter's family... the... Durbs...bees? Think... He had food... Dursleys! That had to have been it. _

He wiped tiredly at his face with his right hand. If he could get help from Potter, maybe he'd be able to get out of the mess he'd been forced into.

Slowly he stood, dust clinging to his once nice-looking clothes, and he walked towards a rusting mirror that was casually hanging in the library. Dull blond hair, once a vibrant gelled-back look, hung limply around his face and landed just below his ears. Grey eyes studied his once proud frame, disgusted in how he had once admired himself; how he had once admired his copied cold grey stare.

He found it rather amusing how everything surrounded the word 'once'. Once... the word that always seemed to change everything.

He had once followed around his father's image and spoke his words with full confidence. He had once allowed himself to look down on others, thinking he had once been right in doing so. He had once offered his hand to Harry Potter and had once ruined that chance. Just like how he had once had freedom to do as will wanted, but when the Dark Lord returned, he had to meet him once; just once. It took that one time for him to fall down and that one time to break the Malfoy saying of 'Bow to No One'.

Draco Malfoy stared at himself further, not able to recognize himself. _Who am I, if Draco Malfoy is no longer? Just Grey Eyes? Just Dull? Just a once? Once I had been Draco Malfoy, proud heir to the Malfoy family and Malfoy fortunes. Once I had a life of grandness and luxury unlimited... Once._ And in the first time in years, one tear fell out of his dull eyes and traveled down his pureblood face. It skimmed down past a once nasty scar from when his father once hit him. And it had only taken one spell to heal. Out of anger, Draco spit at his reflection. He hated himself and it only took that one time for him to come to that conclusion.

He went back to what he was trying to do. This was his one and only chance to make things right.

Looking out his window, Draco saw the moonlight and realized how tired he was. It had taken him nearly all morning and most of the day just to find the Potter genealogy book, only for it to not have been worth the effort. _Maybe I should go rest now? I am going to need this strength for when I attempt to find Lily's family tree... assuming she has one that is. And assuming I'm correct about these Dursleys, I'm going to need to figure out what connection they are to Potter – besides a home, that is._

With that last thought, he carefully closed his book and swiftly walked out of the library to his room.

~0~

The sun streamed in from his windows. He had slept well and he was ready to start his new search. Draco realized that he most likely couldn't just find a muggle genealogy book, so he carefully charmed himself to look different before he left his home. He didn't know where to start, but he figured that he had the whole day to find out. Little did he know, that within finding out where Harry Potter lived, he'd be finding out something further that was to be thought well concealed.

Several hours later, it being almost five o'clock at night, he finally found out that he was correct about the Dursleys. Harry Potter was living with his Aunt Petunia Dursley, formerly Petunia Evans, sister of the now deceased Lily Potter, Lily Evans. He found the address. But that wasn't the only thing he found in his quest. No, he had uncovered a semi-catastrophic controversy; the Potter Blood Will. It was supposedly nonexistent. It, like the veil, was wrongly hidden by false truths. The common denominator, the catalyst for the words he finally found for his letter, all coming from one man, Albus Dumbledore. _What a liar!_

Once he got home, mind reeling with all of this information (that he may have-may have not illegally obtained), he pulled out the same piece of parchment and began to write. Once he was finished, he called for his strongest owl.

_Let's just hope Potter is smart enough to know I'm not playing, but dumb enough to respond and give me a chance._

~1~

Harry giggled softly to himself. _I think I've had too much excitement thrown my way in too short of a time. Seriously, how the hell does one confuse an owl with something that doesn't exist? Or at least, something that I don't think exists..._

The elegant, dark-brown owl softly nipped at Harry's fingers before letting him undo the letter from its feet. He gave this seemingly random owl some of Hedwig's treats before plopping on the bed. The owl didn't make a move to leave, so he assumed that whoever sent this letter was wanting a reply.

_Dear Mister Harry James Potter:_

_I am writing to you in hopes of helping the light. I am only going to give you one unhelpful hint as to who I am; I am a death eater who does not wish to be on the dark side. My owl's name is Night, and he will leave once you reply back to me. _

_It is very unwise of me to send this lot of information, but seeing as how I need your help as much as you need mine, I'm willing to take the risk:_

_I heard of what happened at the Ministry about two? months ago. I can assure you that I wasn't there. (So I just lied and may be too lazy to get new parchment; second unhelpful hint.) But I know, because the Dark Lord had repeated word for word of what happened. He praised Bellatrix for what happened to Sirius Black. He even went as far as to tell us how the veil works. (Trust me, it was a merry-for-me gloating mishap!)_

_I, for one, thought it was careless on his behalf. A room full of—mostly—Slytherins, who don't really trust him, shouldn't be trusted with this information. He told us that there was a way to bring Sirius Black back, too, which was the biggest careless mistake of them yet! (But I must concede; if he hadn't been big on gloating his first true victory since his return, there is an unfortunate truth that I'd not have been willing to send this letter.)_

_I write this to you in confidence that this letter finds you well. Night is my best owl. I know you are probably wondering how I managed to find you. I will tell you that it wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do. Considering I grew up in a wizarding world and you a muggle one. _

_You are probably like, 'Why is he telling me this and not about Sirius Black and the veil?', but I must tell you that I refuse to give out such information; Salazar forbid my owl doesn't reach its destination. (And no, no one will know Night. I wouldn't have to worry about being found out.)_

_I will tell you this, in the Black library, there are books based on theories and myths concerning dark magic and, you've guessed it, the veil. I only know this because the Blacks... well, I don't think I should tell you that part... it might give you a clue (very helpful) as to who I am._

_I am going to help you out even further; Dumbledore knows the secrets of the veil. He just thinks that Sirius Black was a necessary loss. I've overheard him talking about it to Severus Snape. Snape, I'm __sure you know, is on your side as well. (And no, I couldn't have just asked him for your address. He doesn't know what allegiances I side on.)_

_I would end this letter saying that I'm sorry for your loss, but then again, Sirius Black is not lost forever. _

_Please write back to let me know this reached you._

_Anonymously yours,  
A New Spy_

_P.S. Happy Belated Birthday_

Harry looked at the letter, anger swelling through him. He wasn't sure what he was mad at just yet; Dumbledore, the fact that this unknown person remembered his birthday, or completely at this self-proclaimed new spy.

He looked at the owl, sighing sadly as Hedwig's absence loomed over him, "Night, is your owner serious about this?"

Harry didn't really expect an answer, and he didn't receive one. He quickly set aside his pain and went for some parchment and a quill. He began writing:

_A New Spy:_

_For all I know, you are the same person who entered my home tonight and want to further your laugh at my expense. How do I know you are to be trusted? I am very unsure about you. You came out of nowhere and pretty much just called Dumbledore something a hell of a lot worse than a 'liar'. I may not be too happy with him right now, but I wouldn't start accepting baseless accusations against the man either. You need to remember, just as recent as before everyone else found out about your Lord's return, everyone was calling both, him and me, crazy. So try again. If you want me to believe you, I need more than just some flimsy letter._

_But I do write back, if not out of some hope you're being serious, then to let you know I received your letter. I'd like you to keep in mind, assuming you've malicious intent, that I'm too pissed off to care about what spells can or can't be used. I. Will. Not. Hold. Back. Killing Curses included._

_Going back to the belief that you're being serious, maybe if you tell me a name of a book, specifically, and it is there in the library, maybe I will consider believing you?_

_Not fully trusting you,  
Harry Potter_

_P.S. Thanks?_

Harry tied the letter to Night's leg, giving him one more treat, before sending him off.

_At least I have something to look forward to._ Harry thought bitterly.

~0~

He woke up at the soft knock on his bedroom door. "H-Harry?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?" Harry softly replied. He didn't understand why his aunt was suddenly being nice to him. Then again, if he thought about it, he could understand that maybe she was still scared and that once that fear wore off, she'd be back to being a total _bitch_. _After all, isn't that what she's done my whole life? When I was a baby, I obviously was cared for since I'm not dead. 'Oh look, baby Harry, let me mother him because Lily is dead,' _Harry's thoughts childishly mimicked his aunt's, _'Oh look, Harry is a big boy, let my husband and son bash his face in!'_ Harry snorted.

"Are you okay enough to make breakfast?" Petunia sighed before she opened the door and softly closed it behind her, "I don't expect you to make breakfast. They," she pointed towards the door, "do. Harry, I know you don't like us and I won't pretend to not understand why. I think it is clear what needs to be done here. I know you take me for some cold, heartless woman, and to you, I have been. So I'm going to say this in a direct manner that I know you're expecting: I'm kicking you out. I don't find this home safe with you in it, none of us want you here, and I wish for you to be gone by the end of the night." She gave a pointed look at Harry, hoping he'll get the gist.

Harry bit his lip, he thought Aunt Petunia was clear. "While I know what you're trying to do, maybe it'll help if I heard you say it the right way?"

She sniffed and gave him a watery smile, "I'm asking you to leave because you're no longer safe here, you don't want to be here because we haven't been welcoming, and I want you gone by the end of the night so you won't have to deal with this crap anymore." Petunia grasped Harry's head with the palms of her hand, and then planted a soft kiss to his forehead, before swiftly walking out of the room.

He raked a shaky hand through his hair. _What just happened?_

~End Chapter 1~

_AN: Once again, please go to my profile to read more about this story. I tried my best to make sure this was drastically different from the first chapter of the newly revised Awake on SolemnxAngel's profile (soon to be deleted when this is up). Please understand, all of you old-Awake fans, that some parts were necessary for this story, so I had to keep them sort-of as-is. _

_This story will **not** be getting regular updates. Updates will be sporadic and done when I feel like I have finished the next chapter. _

_Thank you all for reading. Now will you please review? (Anonymous reviewers, please leave something for me to respond to your review!)_

_Much Love,  
Ai_


End file.
